


Pain Tolerance

by K___Kelly



Series: The Creation of Caleb Widogast [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caleb Widogast Has Issues, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Caleb Widogast-centric, Gen, I love my hobo wizard but he always needs help, Minor Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast, Self-Loathing Caleb Widogast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K___Kelly/pseuds/K___Kelly
Summary: Caleb is always the last to notice when he is bleeding
Relationships: Could be implied widojest, Jester Lavorre & Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast
Series: The Creation of Caleb Widogast [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609750
Comments: 5
Kudos: 220





	Pain Tolerance

He walks away from the smoking battlefield, fingers already fumbling for his components pouch. Before settling in to begin the ritual he does a quick head count of the party, _eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs gotts sei Dank_. Thankfully no one is dead yet. Once everyone is safe and accounted for he starts to pull out the incense and other materials needed to bring back his cat. He finishes the ritual and immediately goes to check on Nott. She smiles widely when she sees him but suddenly frowns.

“Caleb did you get hurt?” She scrabbles toward him and reaches toward his coat which is still splattered with blood.

“Nein, nein, I am fine Nott do not worry please.” He pulls the coat tighter and shrinks into himself, hunching instinctively.

She withdraws her claws and nods, worry still evident in her lamp-like eyes. “Okay, but you’d tell me if you were hurt right?”

“Nott you are my dear friend and I do not hide important things from you unless it is to protect you.”

She squints at him and shakes her head growling. “But that’s my job, I protect you.”

“I know schatz I know.” He keeps one hand wrapped around the coat but reaches the other out to affectionately ruffle her hair. “That hasn’t changed, I am fine, we are fine.” He nearly jumps out of his skin when Beau shouts his name from a few feet behind him.

“Hey Caleb! You gonna do that alarm spell thing or what?”

With some difficulty he responds with a large audible sigh. “Yes, Beauregard one moment.” He looks over and sees Beau and Molly setting up camp. Molly is currently angling the tent pole so that the second he walks away the entire tent will collapse onto Beau. His tail is flicking back and forth mischievously, and Caleb contemplates whether or not he should intervene. Before he can decide the sound of a disgruntled squawk confirms that the decision was made for him. Beau’s uncharacteristic sound of distress is followed by a string of muffled and increasingly explicit curses. He looks up to see Beau tearing her way out of the tent while Molly is practically rolling on the ground laughing and the noise has now attracted Fjord’s attention.

“What the hell are you two fuck-hey! Our tent!”

Beau emerges from the destroyed tent, red-faced and clearly pissed off. She points an accusing finger at Molly who is still laughing hysterically. “Don’t yell at me he’s the one who collapsed the tent!”

Caleb sighs again shaking his head at their antics and refocusing on the silver thread unwinding between his fingers. “Mr. Caleb are you alright is all that gore, really just gnoll blood on your coat?' Molly walks over and looks Caleb over with a careful concerned scrutiny.

Beau shoves the remains of the tarp at Molly and leans in to look at the side of Caleb’s ratty coat which is a much darker shade of brown than usual. “Yeah I dunno Cay I think you should get Jester to take a look at that.”

“My coat is stained with gnoll blood because your staff bashed their heads in; that is all.” He counters flatly.

Molly tosses the tarp behind himself and goes over to get a closer look at Caleb.“You know I’m sure Jester wouldn’t mind looking at it, and it won’t hurt you just to have it looked…”

Caleb cuts him off brusquely. “I am sure she is busy, as am I.” He finishes the alarm spell and moves away from them both as quickly and quietly as possible. He purposely goes over to sit on the smoky side of the fire and pulls out a spell book. Quickly he falls into a deep pattern of study almost like a meditation. Caleb is completely absorbed in his work when suddenly a bright voice breaks through the focused haze with a surprising level of urgency. 

“Caleb"

“Caleb!”

“CALEB!”

He looks up with a start to see Jester standing less than a foot away from him, looking him up and down with concern bleeding from her violet eyes.

“Ja what is it?”

“Caleb you’re…you’re all bloody!”

He looks down and sure enough the small spot of red on the side of his coat that he had dismissed has been gradually pooling until now it has reached a size that most would deem concerning. Surprise is written across his face; he lifts his arm to get a better look and makes a conscious effort not to wince at the slight pain it causes. He _can_ feel it now, but it doesn’t quite burn or ache the way it probably should. Judging by Jester’s face he should be quite worried about the amount of crimson dripping down his coat and gathering around him. Of course, he has never been fazed by blood, it was one of the things Master Ikithon had admired about him. How stoic he was. How he might wince or hiss, but he always managed to stay silent. He never cried out in pain. Because he is not weak. Or at least he wasn't. That strength is gone and he's reminded of its gaping absence, every time he wakes up screaming from a nightmare; with the sound of his own desperation echoing in his ears, condemning and berating him. _Weak. Pitiful. Useless._ It never used to be like that, he used to be strong.

He is fully aware that he has an annoying habit of going down during every other battle, but in all fairness he was never trained for close combat. Unlike his companions any strength he used to claim was not physical. But this…the aftermath of battle, the hours of aching muscles, cracked bones, the blurred vision and shallow breaths. This, is where he _excels_. He was not built to sustain damage, but he was forged to endure it. Lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice Jester sidle up and kneel beside him with both arms outstretched, the desire to help twitching in her glowing fingertips. “Caleb please let me see…let me heal you.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“W-What? Caleb I want to heal you because you’re hurt and I’m your friend!”

Caleb puts a hand against his side it comes away dark red and sticky. “I-It is all on my hands”. He holds his hand out, palm up, fingers splayed, dripping with gore. “You deserve better people in your life.”

“But I don’t WANT better people I want to help YOU!”

“I am beyond help Jester.”

She rolls her eyes at this. “Cay-leb you’re not _dying_ , especially not when you have the world’s best cleric here to heal you!” She gently starts peeling aside his blood-soaked coat, clutching her holy symbol with her other hand.

He puts a hand over hers to stop her. “No Jester don’t waste your power it is not bad.”

“You’re bleeding way too much just let me fix it!”

“Jester is does not hurt.”

“You’re lying”.

He looks at her earnestly. “I am not lying.”

“Fine, then I’m going to poke it.”

“You are welcome to.”

She frowns and points her finger at his side. “I’m really going to poke it I’m not kidding!” She squeezes her eyes closed and reaches out and pokes Caleb’s side. He doesn’t react, but her finger comes away bloody. Jester wipes the blood on the grass and stands up so that she is towering over him ever so slightly. “Caleb you’re being _stupid_ even if it doesn’t hurt super bad you’re still bleeding all over everything and…and you might attract bears or something!” The pitch of her voice is rapidly escalating with her frustration.

Caleb presses a hand against his side right below the armpit to staunch the blood flow and hopefully calm an increasingly hysterical Jester. “I am sorry I did not intend to make such a mess. I will clean it up so you will not be concerned with bears or…” He trails off because she has turned away from him and there is a sudden soft sobbing sound coming from her direction.

“Jester?”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT STUPID FUCKING BEARS CALEB.”

“Ah Jester please you’ll wake everyone.”

“I don’t care! You don’t let anyone help you except Nott sometimes and…and.. helping people is my job! I’m supposed to heal you guys and make sure you don’t bleed all over the campground because I’m your friend and I want to it’s what I _want_ to do, but, but you never let me help you, and it’s not because I’m not a good friend to you I _know_ I’m a good friend because my momma taught me how to be a good friend and I always listened to her and she is _always_ right, b-but if that’s not the problem then it must be something else it must be...does that mean?...You don’t think I’m a good enough cleric?” Her last question comes out much softer and choked with tears.

He can only see aspects of her face in the low light of a slowly dying fire, but he can clearly hear the sobs which are now wracking her small form. “Scheisse nein, Jester I have _never_ thought that…”

“Then why won’t you tell me when you’re hurt or let me heal you now that I know?”

“Ah because, well first I did not even notice I was hurt it…it doesn’t really hurt I was not lying…I have been injured much more gravely and I did not think this was anything more than soreness from battle…I was occupied with my spells and I did not notice it had gotten so much worse…” He pauses before continuing carefully. “Jester, I don’t want you to heal me because I don’t deserve…”

“Stop it Caleb.” She spits her response out sharp and cold and he cuts himself off immediately. She grasps her holy symbol and sits down with her knees tucked under her facing him. Without another word he obligingly pulls aside his coat. In a flash of warm tingling green light, he can suddenly breathe a bit easier and the dull burning ache is completely gone from his side.

Jester pulls her hands away, but he catches one and squeezes it gently, still avoiding her teary gaze. “Thank you Jester, I have not met many clerics before you, but you are most certainly the best person I have ever met, you have the best heart.” He thinks she might be smiling but its hard to say for sure in the firelight. 

And from somewhere nearby they can hear Beau shouting. “I take personal offense to that!”

Followed by Molly’s infectious chuckle. “Go to sleep Unpleasant One you’re ruining a heartfelt moment.” 


End file.
